Page 3 of Preying Game

Okay. Tell me what you look like.

Why?

We’re talking mind to mind—and it will help to picture you.

Oh Lord, like in a book I read. Only I thought nobody would hear me.

I did. But let’s see if we can make the connection stronger. It’s easier if I can picture you.

The voice turned eager. Okay. I have dark blond hair. About shoulder length. My eyes are blue.

How tall are you?

Five five.

He went back to her face. What does your nose look like? Your mouth.

My bottom lip is kind of full. I’ve heard people say my nose is thin.

Okay. And your skin?

Pale. I’ve been . . . inside for a long time. Her voice took on a warmer quality. And what do you look like? I want to picture you, too.

I’m six one. One hundred and eighty pounds. Dark hair—not too long. Blue eyes. Broken nose.

How did you do it?

I got jumped by some bigger guys when I was in high school.

I’m sorry.

It never happened again.

What do you do for a living?

I’m a private detective.

Just what I need. Or is this all too good to be true? she asked, her mental voice turning plaintive.

No. I can find you, he said, praying it was true. But I’m going to need more information.

Anything . . .

He thought for a moment. He took you when?

August

It was October now. Christ, that meant she’d been in captivity for a long time.

As though she were following his thoughts, she asked, what month is it now?

October

Oh my God. . .

From one moment to the next, the quality of the sound in his head changed. For a few minutes it had been loud and clear. Then it turned ragged.

Alice.

When she didn’t answer, he called her name again and again. But he knew that the transmission had cut off.

Desperately he reached for the radio dial and twisted it, trying to get her back. He kept shouting at her, but now all he got was the freaking static.